


Chapter Fifty-Four: Light Up The Night

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [55]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers (Marvel Generation One), Transformers Generation One, Transformers Generation Two
Genre: Drinking & Talking, First Meetings, Gen, Ghosts, Other, Strategy & Tactics, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 21:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4035856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirteen stellar cycles ago, the Legion Conflict was spreading its influence throughout the Arm as splinter Decepticon factions scramble for control. With Elita now Prime, the Autobots, now in control of most of Cybertron, believe that under a united banner, they will defeat the threat from ancient adversaries. </p><p>At least on the surface. </p><p>With Springer's recommendation, an atheistic courier, secreting a holy artifact with the mission to find Rodimus Prime, meets with Roadbuster to get the band back together. Trouble is, there's trust issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Fifty-Four: Light Up The Night

At the heart of the city there is a building that looks down over all there is.  
And the man in the tower controls it all without raising a single fist.  
It's like they gathered up the city, they sold it to the devil, and now  
It's gone to hell and they wonder how.  
—["Light Up The Night"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UpSHC1dqX1o) by The Protomen, from _Act II: The Father of Death_

 

Macadam's Ol' Oil House

Iacon Harbour

Cybertron

Thirteen Stels Ago

Start of the Legion Conflict

The megacycle just before closing was always the quiestest, with a jukebox playing a tune that had been popular back before Artemis had been forged. She scanned the sparse patronage as she headed to the bar.

“Tall lager, whatever’s on tap,” she nodded to the bartender, flipping out her cred card.

“Not seen you ‘round here ‘fore,” the bartender drawled, topping off the glass with a frothy head. “Lookin’ fer some’un?”

“That I am,” she admitted as currency changed hands. “But aren’t we all?”

She toasted him with the full glass and moved to the back table, falling as naturally in the seat as she would her regular spot at Four Winds back in Kethys.

_This might be the best of approaches…_

“Probably not,” she sighed, bringing the drink to her lips. “So, who are we looking for?”

A phantom tap on her shoulder, and she looked up; across the bar, a large, rust and field green coloured Autobot sat against the wall, arms crossed over his massive chest and head down, staring at the nearly finished drink or nodding off.

Standing, she returned to the bar, leaning across the countertop and whispered, “Getting my friend another, whatever he's having…”

“Sure thin’, luv,” the bartender agreed, adding another drink on her tab, a high-test oil-and-alcohol mix. Again, she thanked him and, taking both drinks, and heading to the corner seat. She never met Roadbuster — only knew of him by reputation — but Springer vouched for him, and had promised to send a pin beam to let the de facto commander know she was on her way to meet him.

Roadbuster did not look up as she slid the glass across the surface, before grabbing a chair and drew it to the table.

“Springer sent me,” she initiated, taking a pull from her own glass.

“Huh.” Finishing off his spent glass — a feat she had admired with those Cybertronians with faceplates, but never bothered to contemplate the “how” — he pushed it aside and pulled the new one close to him. “Funny — you don’t look like his type.”

“He tends to like the pretty ones, doesn't he?” she jested.

He chuckled. “So how is our boy doing?”

"As well as can be expected. Magnus left some pretty big treads to fill."

“That they are.” Roadbuster studied his drink before hefting it forward. “To Magnus, then.”

She wasted no time returning the toast. “To Magnus.”

They both took drinks that drained half their glasses before resuming discussions. “So,” Roadbuster harrumphed. “Hunting down the ‘Cons?”

“Not exactly.” She leaned forward, folding her hands in front of her. “What I’m going to tell you is classified, Elita’s orders. Galvatron's the least of our worries. Quintessons have been observing us both Earthside and here, Shockwave made an open broadcast from Polyhex calling all available Decepticons to return to Helex, which caught Thunderwing’s attention —”

If the Quintesson threat gave Roadbuster no rise, he dragged an intake at the mention of Thunderwing’s Decepticons.

“—as well as another exiled splinter faction, who vaped Seti VII for scrap and giggles. We need all the help we can get.”

“Springer did tell you about us, at least?”

“Got a chance to read your files en route here,” Artemis leaned back, finishing off her drink. “Special forces, working outside normal channels of the armed service. Usually working as a splinter cell, specialising in hit-and-run, demolition, and ultra beat downs. My kind of tactics.” Now she chuckled, a mirthful lift of her mouth. “Which must have driven Magnus madder than a Junkion.”

As she gave him the lowdown, he gestured to the bartender, indicating his guest. “He was our contact with Autobot command,” Roadbuster explained, a tone hinting at better sols. “Only one who could beat us down, really. He earned our respect, that he did. But that's neither here nor there. Now, I have this upstart mech I don't know from Prima, telling me Springer gave him — "

" — her — " Artemis corrected.

" — the order to get the band back together?” The lack of facial features made it difficult to read his expression. Difficult, but not impossible.

_Don’t back down — he’s challenging you. Testing you._

_Two steps ahead, soldier._ Artemis grinned, again, leaning forward. “I’ll tell you who I am. I was one of Elita’s covert agents during the Great War. I sacrificed my friendships and severed ties, fraternised the most unsavoury of Decepticons, for the good of the Autobots and all of Cybertron, for snippets of information that would keep us ahead of Shockwave and his minions.”

“You’re one of those who took ‘Till All Are One’ a little too seriously, eh?”

“Anything to frag over the Functionists.” Her drink arrived; she looked up just as the waitstaff flitted away. Returning to lock gazes with Roadbuster, she continued. “Sure, I was naive then, not understanding that power can corrupt even the purest of intentions.”

He held his comment, letting it fester longer than comfort allowed. “So you finally chose a side, Artemis.”

She frowned, casual. “You have heard of me, then.”

“The old man don’t take too kindly to mercs in his bar.”

“I retired when I found a cause to fight for.”

“You weren’t the only one who had hope,” Roadbuster sat up straight. “You and Magnus made up, I take it.”

 _You told him about me?_ She let her surprise slip just a bit; calculated, returning her composure with a good pull of her drink. “We came to terms, yes.”

“You’re taking his death well.”

 _Hard to grieve when he’s standing just outside my peripheral._ She kept this to herself. “He died defending us. It would do him no justice to sulk in a corner. That’s why I’m here, doing what he would have done had he lived. And right now, that’s to get the best Primus-damned outfit rallied up to fight for our home and defend our allies.”

Roadbuster tapped his finger against his drink before finishing it off. “I’ll call the boys, then. You have a crew?”

She nodded. “I’ll be forthright; I’ve got a defected Decepticon amongst us.”

Roadbuster did not flinch, but he was quiet for a good ten clicks. “How’d he come about?”

“He had a chance to break from Galvatron, and stole Trypticon in the process.”

“’Stole’ Trypticon?”

“Trypticon was hungry and was willing, as I understand the situation.”

“To attack Autobot City?”

“No, just ended up about five hundred klicks north in a tundra wilderness.”

“He got lost.”

“Most likely.”

“You trust him?”

“’Trust’ wouldn’t be the word I’d use, but close enough.”

Roasbuster stood; he favoured his right leg. “You don’t trust easily, do you?”

Artemis followed suit; getting one last good pull up her drink, she returned the chair to its original table. She did not respond to Roadbuster’s question, whether or not it was delivered as rhetoric. Instead, she returned to the bar to settle the tab. “On me this time.”

Roadbuster led the way out of the bar; without warning, he transformed into his vehicle mode, a large all-terrain wheeled tank.

Anything else I should know about Roadbuster? She transformed as well, keeping her distance; she was getting better about keeping her monologue internal.

_He’s … subdued. Peace never suited him, but this… Be on guard — he’s not this forgiving._

“About Octane? Or me?” this, she kept under the rumble of her engine as she tailed the larger Autobot.

_A little of both, most likely. Skyfire’s reinstatement into the Autobots was a bit of a sore spot, but he did eventually get over it._

“And that was over twenty-five stels ago. I’m thinking an ambush, now.”

_I told you it wasn’t a wise move to drink on the job._

“Two lagers, soldier. And I didn’t finish the second.” She let the moment hang for the better part of the trip, approaching the highway exit towards the harbour. “Thank you.” When he did not question why — at least, nothing she could perceive, she continued. “For sticking with me on this. It’s just been…too much.”

_What are you going to do when you find him?_

“All I’m doing is a delivery. Original function. I’m returning a package to its rightful owner.”

_I didn’t mean Hot Rod._

She was surprised that had been brought up. “He’ll be brought to justice. He can be contained now, with a shell. Let him rot in a cell deep in the Pit for all I care.” She wanted to believe that. Let go of the memory. “Why are you sticking with me?” She then questioned. “Unless Optimus and Rod were better at keeping the voices at bay, which wouldn’t be hard…”

_Perhaps, as Alpha Trion said, I’m only at the Gate. Not a true Prime._

Now it was her turn to correct him. “I didn’t mean that.”

_Because you asked for help._

She could not find any fault with that argument, and remained silent for the rest of the short trip.

The Harbour was still under repairs from the Unicron incident, impassible in vehicular mode due to the massive construction vehicles, both sentient and drone, going about their business. Roadbuster, without missing a beat, took to foot towards the docks. Artemis tagged after him, head down but optics forward. All but three of the piers over the Sea of Light were nonoperational; Roadbuster led her to Pier Number 6, vacant with the exception of a slew of decrepit warehouses. He swiped his hand over the lock of the largest; the door rose with a rusty clatter. He waved a hand, inviting her inside.

“You said so yourself, I don’t trust easily,” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You want the Wreckers?” Roadbuster’s tone dove, from dry jest to sardonic. “Then you’re gonna have to trust me.”

_You’re covered._

She caught the meaning of the whisper. “Fine,” she dropped her arms and pressed into the darkness. Automatic lights flickered on, buzzing noisily, illuminating a foyer fenced in by security barriers. The door crashed into place as Roadbuster approached her.

“Now that we can talk privately,” he growled, words now tipped with something north of contempt, “I want to know everything that happened over the past decacycle in Autobot City. There’s rumblings from the Council Chambers that Rodimus is missing. Is that true?”

 _Scrap._ Hard telling had that been her own thought. “Yes; R-and-D was working on a space bridge, and there had been a…malfunction. We have reason to believe that he’s still alive. I was charged in finding him. Springer said you'd be able to help my crew.”

“And the Decepticons took advantage? Did they know he was missing?”

“Not until they infiltrated the base.”

“And the Matrix?”

 _Slot!_ That curse was definitely hers. She bowed her head and formed an answer close to the truth. “I failed to protect him — protect it.”

“Tell me the ‘Cons don’t have it, at least. Tell me it was destroyed and out of their hands.”

“The ‘Cons don't have it.”

“Then what is your role in this?” Roadbuster loomed over her, close enough to choke the answer out if needed.

“I was on low-level security detail; just enough privilege to do my job, and reported directly to Kup and Magnus. At the time, my role with Elita's resistance was kept private. Need to know, but I found out that Kup was privy to the info as well. We learnt that the ‘Cons were planning a big push, that Galvatron brought in gestalt teams to attempt to overrun Autobot City. When word returned that Trypticon went rogue — or rather, Octane tricked Trypticon to go rogue — we took the opportunity to refortify our defenses while Galvatron was distracted.”

“Let me guess: Perceptor got the bright idea to get an Earthside space bridge operational.”

“He's not to blame,” Artemis snapped. She was losing patience. “What’s done is done, and we need to find Rod.”

“Still don’t know what happened to Magnus yet.”

“I told you —”

“Galvatron aced him. Please, it takes more than one ‘Con to bring him down.”

“Galvatron isn’t any one ‘Con.”

_He’s trying to work you up._

_He’s doing a damned good job!_

“How did Galvatron get to him?”

That caught in her throat. “As I said, I failed in my mission.”

“Oh, come on, now!” Roadbuster brought his face close to hers. “Why did you fail?”

 _Snap._ She bull-rushed the much larger Autobot, slamming him against the security fence. Pressing her weight into his shoulders, barring him from lifting his arms, she snarled, “Because I double crossed Galvatron for the Autobots and he paid me back by keeping me alive to watch him destroy everything I truly cared about, starting with Magnus!”

She stepped back, lowering her arms and diverting her gaze, although keeping Roadbuster in her peripheral. “I—I apologise. That was uncalled for.”

Instead, he laughed, clapping her hard on her right shoulder. “You’ll fit right in, Art.”

Now she glared at him; she was angry, yes, with a twist of confusion.

“Wasn’t too certain of you at first,” he admitted, rolling his shoulders. “Sounded to me you didn’t know where to stand at first—I don’t like covert agents, on principle. But it sounds like you found your footing. Springer was right. That and you strike like a Prime. Gotta admire that.”  

You have no idea. “I don’t appreciate being goaded,” Artemis grumbled.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have known your true intentions if I hadn’t.” Roadbuster held up a finger, “Reason why I don’t like covert agents — can’t tell what side they’re on most the time. Get ‘em worked up, lose their cool, and you learn real quick where they stand.”

“Where the hell are you going with this?” She relaxed, rocking back on her heels.

“There’s only two of us Cybertron-side right now — me and Whirl. Rest of us are scattered throughout the galaxy after the Great War. Some of us end up in positions of power, like our Springer. Likely doesn't talk about it, does he? One of our young ones — good head on his shoulders, got a wit to him. He’s a good choice for Magnus's successor. Anyway, me and Whirl, we stuck around. Gotta keep an optic on the stash, after all.”

“So who’s available, then? Springer can’t leave Autobot City now.”

“Nor can Whirl or me leave Iacon,” Roadbuster added. “Which leaves a handful of us scattered through the Arm, and you and your crew.”

“Wait a cycle,” she held up her hands. “I was told to find the Wreckers, not—”

“Springer tapped you, Art, if he sent you here. Means one of two things, likely both: you’re a hot-headed loner type looking for a fight, and/or you’re more useful to the Autobots on the field than in jail. Characteristics befitting a Wrecker.”

“Likely a little bit of both,” she muttered, now looking past Roadbuster through the security gate. Lockers and shelving, all labelled numerically and locked, lined the walls, with a lone door marked “Staff Only” in the major Cybertronian languages. “So this is your base?”

“Only one located in Iacon,” he nodded, flicking his thumb over the lock and opening the outer gate. “I’m thinking you’re not here on Cybertron just to talk to some old guerrilla fighter.”

“I got summoned by Emirate Zaaron, but I figured I’d get the important stuff out of the way before doing so. Including getting blitzed.”

“You heretic,” Roadmaster laughed, this time taking the lead through the storage area to the back of the room. “Let the gate close behind you; it automatically locks.”

“Looks like I’m gonna have to trust you, eh?”

“Looks like.”

 

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** Of The Machine


End file.
